


Patience

by mintjoonlep



Series: Patience Series [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Humor, Jackson is sweet and understanding, Lube, Masturbation, Sex Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, cumming early, initially awkward and slightly angsty first attempt at sex, jackson refers to the reader as a 'good girl' at one point, loving but not perfect and slightly clumsy second attempt at sex, problems with performance anxiety partly due to prior partners, reader also has trouble getting turned on and feeling comfortable with intimacy, reader is a little shy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25787149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintjoonlep/pseuds/mintjoonlep
Summary: (Prequel to Scruff and Homecoming) Sex for you tended to be an awkward subject and one you were consistently loathe to broach in relationships, so when things with your newest boyfriend started to take an intimate turn you weren’t at all surprised to find yourself feeling like a nervous wreck. After a disastrous attempt leads to fessing up to Jackson about your anxiety and associated issues with becoming aroused, you’d more than expected the usual frustrations or upset you’d become accustomed to with past lovers to rear its ugly head.Jackson, however, seemed keen to convey that he not only understood, but that he could show you, once you were comfortable and ready, how enjoyable, fun, and even silly sex could be.
Relationships: Jackson Wang/You
Series: Patience Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779787
Kudos: 27





	Patience

Jackson, for as long as you'd known him, had always been a touchy-feely kind of guy. He'd shown scarce few indications of shyness where it concerned showing affection regardless of who it was with, being equally inclined to hug or hang on a close friend, a relative, or a significant other. He respected people's boundaries without fail, of course, but he liked to be open with his feelings towards those he found himself fond of and you'd surmised rather quickly after befriending him that he thrived on receiving attention in return for what he gave. He had a way of lighting up, sometimes even subtly, whenever someone returned an embrace or sought him out first to throw an arm around his shoulders, the familiar quirk of his lips evident even when it was softer, smaller than his usual beaming smiles.

He'd been careful about such things with you, restraining himself to a hand on your shoulder or a quick hug of greeting as you'd stepped past the barrier of being awkward acquaintances to becoming friends, knowing one another well enough to no longer need outsiders to gravitate towards each other, strike up conversations, or even exchange texts. As you'd grown more comfortable with him and let him know that you were fine with his manner of expressing care through contact, he'd taken to letting his hugs linger, looping an arm around your back for a short while, and as you adjusted you'd come to crave the closeness even before your feelings had developed into something more. When your relationship had made the progression into a romantic one, Jackson's predilection for touching you had magnified in a number of different ways. Aside from the expected kissing and wonderfully comfortable cuddling, he'd never made you want for the feel of his hand in yours whenever you were out on a date, finding whatever little ways he could to quietly yet eagerly signify that you were together. The guiding touch of his hand against the small of your back as he held open the door to a restaurant was something you found as gratifying and familiar as the way he took to stroking your cheek whenever his fingers made their way towards tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

Three months had given you plenty of time to anticipate Jackson finding ways to showcase his unfailing want for your nearness, so it came as no surprise whatsoever when you felt his chest against your back even while your hands were deep in soapy dishwater. You didn't pause or look up from the plate you'd been scrubbing with a steady ferocity, fighting a grin when you could feel him bend to set his chin on your shoulder.

“You don't have to do that, YN. I have an actual dishwasher.”

“You do, but I kinda hate those things. I'd rather wash plates by hand than play dish Tetris.”

You didn't even have to see his pout to know that it was there, his arms giving your middle what you assumed was a bidding squeeze, trying to urge you away from the suds and cutlery. You managed to ignore him, rinsing the plate to place it in the nearby drying rack, his breath tickling your neck with the soft whoosh of a pained sigh when your hands dipped back into the water.

“Then I can load the dishwasher.”

“Not a chance. You cooked me dinner, so I'm washing the dishes. It's only fair.”

“Maybe. But, I like cooking for you. It's not often I get a chance to pamper my girl with a home-cooked meal considering she's always the one making me dinner and bringing it to my office.”

He may have had you there and you couldn't really deny it. Jackson had taken you out on many a dinner date, but the number of times he'd made you a meal were significantly less than the amount of instances in which you'd done so for him. Busy as he tended to be, you'd never felt burdened by your own choice to make him something to eat, preferring to cook for him once you'd made it home from work to your own apartment before heading to his office. Jackson ate well, but could sometimes be prone to letting work consume him, forgetting to even order takeout when he was especially focused, taking a break the second he found you slipping into his office with a smile and something good to eat. Naturally, you couldn't bring him something every day, but you liked the excuse to see him when your respective work weeks had kept you apart for a short while, happier still to see him eagerly chow down on whatever you'd brought. You knew he appreciated how you looked out for him, that you'd been doing it since before the two of you had begun dating, and he took every chance he could to return the favor.

“Well, she likes doing it.”

“Hopefully she likes letting him do it too.”

“She does. She's also wondering why she's suddenly talking in third person.”

“No clue, but it's adorable.”

“Weirdo.”

A sudden puff of air being blown right into your ear had you suppressing a shriek, the mug you'd just gotten your hands on clunking loudly back to the bottom of the sink as a result of Jackson's chosen method of retaliation. He snickered, arms giving you another warm squeeze, and you shot him a dirty look over your shoulder, betting he felt particularly smug from the reaction he'd gotten out of you. Determined to seem as unfazed as possible, no matter how much his totally unwarranted and altogether unfair attack on your person had startled you initially, you fished around for the mug you'd lost track of while trying your best to ignore your hug-happy boyfriend's attempts to steal away your attention. For a little while, it seemed like Jackson had opted to behave, contented by the simple ability to hold you while you worked, his arms remaining around your waist with his chin on your shoulder as you got a few more dishes washed and racked. It was an enjoyable process to have him close and cozy as you tackled the chore, finding that the sink soon became less cluttered, leaving you with just a few items to try feeling out with your fingers beneath the layer of suds masking the water's surface. You'd expected to be done before Jackson saw fit to start being playful again, proven wrong by the feel of the tip of his nose tickling along your neck until you heard him inhaling deeply.

When he repeated the action a second time, humming softly afterward, you let your hands still and lift from the water, rinsing the soap from your skin before you set your fingers against the cool metallic edge of the sink. You felt self-conscious for a moment in your wondering about what he was doing, hoping he hadn't picked up on you being stinky or something without you having been aware of it, positive that you should have been fresh as a daisy given that you'd showered prior to stopping by his apartment. Just what was he doing?

“Something I'm missing?”

“Nope. Just enjoying myself,” he murmured, taking in another breath. “You smell so good.”

“I'm pretty sure I smell the way I always do.”

“And you always smell good.”

He breathed you in once more, chin lifting off your shoulder to replace the weight of it with the lighter touch of his lips, a tender kiss the first of many trailing a sequence up the side of your neck, each one seeming to want to linger just a bit longer than the last. It shouldn't have startled you, not when he'd dotted a peck to the same area a few times before, but those kisses had remained fleeting enough not to be indicative of any sort of deeper intent, just a means of showing affection. Lengthier kisses had always been reserved for your lips, during moments when you'd casually made out on his couch or yours, sometimes on the doorstep of your apartment after he'd brought you home at a date's end. What he was doing seemed to lead into unfamiliar territory in your present relationship, but not unfamiliar territory to you in general and the goal you thought you gleaned behind his actions had you feeling far too nervous to even think about the dishes any longer. You waited with somewhat bated breath to see what he would do next, hands drying slowly against the outside of the sink as Jackson loosened one of the arms he'd had around you, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt to trace across your stomach, touch tickling.

“You smell good enough to eat.”

Jackson's teeth punctuated the sentence, nipping at your neck and you couldn't lie to yourself about how nice it did feel, especially not with the light suction that followed, knees faintly shaking from the polarizing combination of unease and enjoyment. It was the boldest that Jackson had ever really been with you and you weren't entirely sure what to do about it or even what to say. Since you'd started dating he'd made no move to push the physical side of your relationship further and his lack of apparent interest in having sex right away had made you comfortable, let you push it out of your mind. Of course, you'd considered that sex would come up at one point or another, especially when your relationship had only gone as far as heated kisses in the months you'd been together, but you'd been content to just let it come up organically. You hadn't wanted to push a potential discussion you were both nervous and shy about having until it was necessary, feeling like a bit of a coward for waiting until Jackson brought it up first.

He'd definitely brought it up now, another soft suck against a very sensitive part of your neck and the spreading of his fingers across your stomach telling you what he was aiming for before he'd said the words out loud.

“Want you so bad, YN. Been wanting you for so long.”

He let you go, but just for a moment, hands finding your waist as you turned around to face him, hoping the bashfulness in your expression read stronger than your disquiet. You let your hands cover his, thumbs grazing his knuckles as you looked up towards the heat pooling into his gaze. It was a look you'd never seen him wear before, not even whenever the two of you had broken apart after a few minutes of eager kissing, and it looked so very good on him. Jackson was the sexiest man you'd ever met bar none and absolutely the most attractive you'd ever dated, the look of yearning he wore so openly suiting him well. It definitely had an effect on you, one that was both good and bad without seeming to lean more towards one or the other, grateful that you enjoyed having him regard you with such open want for the first time without strictly feeling worried about it. That seemed new and potentially promising, kept you from wanting to feign a headache and hightail it straight home, dishes be damned.

“Can I have you tonight, baby?”

Part of you wanted to tell him that you weren't up for it, making you wary of how poorly he might react and then leaving you instantly remorseful for that thought process as soon as you had it. You knew it wasn't really fair to Jackson to expect shitty behavior just because it was what you were most familiar with, especially when you didn't think you'd ever met a kinder man in your entire life. You could almost guarantee that Jackson would back off if you'd told him you weren't ready yet, but you couldn't say for sure that you weren't, not when part of you was curious to see how things might turn out, how they might be different with him compared to what you'd known before. Worry was a prevalent feeling, as consistent with your sexual history as disappointment, but there was also a fragment of optimism. You may not have slept with Jackson before, but he'd surely been a part of your recent fantasies, so you couldn't deny that you liked the general idea of having sex with him. If the experience was as good as the occasional daydream was what remained to be seen and you knew you wouldn't find out without trying.

Making your decision, you stepped closer until your body had pressed into his, feeling too certain of a blush heating your cheeks to find the bravery to keep looking into his eyes, gaze ducking as you nodded.

“Yeah. You can. Oh! Let me just finish the dishes first.”

He turned you back towards him before you'd even gotten halfway towards looking back at the sink, flashing you a grin that could've dazzled even the most disgruntled of individuals, picking you up like a bride being carried over the threshold for the first time.

“The dishes won't go anywhere. They can wait.”

He kissed your brow, something sweeter and less amorous than you'd have expected from a man who knew he was about to get laid for the first time in months, but it made you smile just the same. You held on to him even when you knew you had no need to, the toned state of Jackson's body thanks to his consistent workout regimen having made him strong enough that he could carry you with ease. He took you all the way from the kitchen to his bedroom without breaking a sweat or showing any sign of shakiness in his arms, nudging his door open with his foot. The sight of his bedroom, in particular the bed, wasn't new when he'd given you a tour of his whole massive apartment the first time you'd paid him a visit, but it wasn't one you saw often. The location and what you knew would occur within it had your nerves wanting to kick into overdrive, prompting you to do all that you could to suppress them, push your anxiety down as well as you felt capable of doing. Jackson set you on your feet right beside the bed, stealing a kiss that robbed you of your breath for how deep it was, the passionate nature of the man you so cared for allowing for nothing to be concealed or uncertain about his longing. He'd always been the type to be open, wearing his heart on his sleeve, his feelings on display without shame, and he encouraged you to follow suit, meet his tongue with yours until you could taste the aftermath of sweetness dessert had left past his lips. Kissing him always felt good, incredible really, and hard to stop doing even when you were prone to worrying about what came after it, so you quashed a sound of disappointment when he broke away from your lips and hands suddenly. You'd been so consumed by making out with him you hadn't even realized you'd buried your fingers into the material of his t-shirt, made more aware of that fact when Jackson took just a step back to pull the garment off, eyes drawn to the way the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest moved as his arms lifted.

The dark article of clothing hit the floor, too quiet against the racing of your thoughts and heart for you to pay it any mind, your arms lifted rather than pressing firmly to your sides when Jackson started tugging the hem of your shirt upward to toss it where his had been discarded. Your shorts became his next target, his lips claiming yours once he'd popped the button free, his breathing just beginning to kick up once your zipper was down and his lips were drawn away, hands shoving the tight-fitting denim down until it settled around your feet. You expected another kiss, for him to lead you back into his arms, but Jackson leaned back instead, gaze raking across your nearly nude body until he exhaled hard, and even despite the visible appreciation the sound hinted at you felt self-conscious as all hell. You had enough confidence in your looks to be fine with them, but you couldn't help feeling a little less than the gorgeous sexpot you wished you could be when Jackson Wang's damn near perfect self was standing right before you. The man could've inspired paintings and sculptures for how exquisite he was and you felt a little lacking as you were, standing in front of him in an old bra with a pair of cotton panties that didn't match, not a stitch of lace or satin in sight.

“You're so beautiful, sweetheart,” he praised, a smile growing as he continued to drink in the sight of you, the compliment flustering you further.

“Oh. Thanks. Thank you. So are you. Sorry I didn't wear anything hotter. Or matching. I wasn't really thinking I'd need my best lingerie when I got dressed earlier.”

“Don't need anything like that. You're plenty sexy as is.”

“I don't feel that sexy.”

You could feel your blush growing hotter, deeper, and you were beyond annoyed by your own skittishness, how hard it could be not to be that way.

“I feel shy,” you had to confess, betraying the confidence you told yourself to try conveying while hating how the words sounded.

“I can tell.”

Jackson chuckled warmly at the way you'd started pouting, lifting your chin with his fingers to make sure you saw him, gaze having naturally darted away with his compliments, and the look in his eyes made you shiver, that same fervent yearning from before only seeming stronger. It was a little exciting, welcome even, that you could make him appear so full of hunger. Surely a bit scary still, but exhilarating even so. You'd happily take whatever little tidbits of promise you could find.

“It's cute. Really, really, cute, but trust me, sweetheart, it doesn't make you any less sexy. Doesn't make me want you any less either.”

His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, leading you forward until your mouths met, and you quivered when he ended his kiss by sucking on your bottom lip the way he knew made you sigh, pleased that half the reaction was from enjoying what he'd done rather than just being apprehensive about it.

“I was already turned on in the kitchen just from thinking that I might finally get to be inside you. Now that I've got you right here, almost naked next to my bed, looking so good...”

You did hold on to him when he lifted you up again, hands clutching his shoulders as he drew your legs around his waist, gripping your ass to hold you steady, and your eyes grew wide at the feel of his erection pressing against your core.

“...I'm so fucking hard it almost hurts.”

There was no way you could lie to yourself about the pride you felt from feeling how aroused he was because of you, wowed by the realization that you truly had gotten him so worked up when he'd probably have had you dripping had you been anyone else, anyone without your problems. Regardless of the fact that you hadn't quite matched him there yet, lacking the level of want he'd reached, you liked that you'd gotten him there and his words made you feel a little warmer. You tried not to lament that you weren't as turned on as you ought to have been, fighting to keep your pessimistic thoughts at bay when you knew things were only moving towards growing more intense, clinging to the way you relished his craving for you as Jackson started to lay you down across his bed. None of your kisses were forced when his lips brushed yours again, basking in how it felt to make out with him when you could feel the heat of his skin seeping into yours, but it felt like you were fighting a battle you weren't winning as your brain threatened to wander. Your mind attempted to zero in on how his mattress felt so soft, how the lights of the city might look beyond the windows rather than paying heed to any possible feelings of arousal inside you. In a way you supposed those thoughts were better than becoming overwhelmed by other things, by negative things, letting yourself just breathe as Jackson's hands found their way under your back, his objective obvious. You lifted up to help him, watching him when his eyes lowered to your chest as the faded garment supporting your breasts was pulled away, the cool air making your nipples tighten.

You laid beneath him, silently commanding yourself not to look away or try to hide, keeping your eyes on him as he inched back to sit on his knees and let his hands give your waist a little squeeze, one that felt like a reassurance just before he started tugging your panties down. You pressed your thighs together quickly, more out of a need to hide the fact that you weren't wet rather than because of feeling bashful, but the charmed smile on Jackson's face told you that he seemed to read the action as being due to the later. The bed barely moved when he slipped off of it, telling you he had to have one of those really good memory foam mattresses, another unneeded thought in your overworking brain, but one that you quickly forgot all about when Jackson's pants were soon descending down his powerful thighs. He stepped out of them and out of his underwear, doing so with a hurried excitement, the thickness of his erection bobbing with his movements and it seemed so unfair that he was even gorgeous down to his cock. There was more girth to him than length, even though he was far from lacking in that respect as well, and you could tell without even feeling him that he'd be a fair stretch, the thought of how much it might burn and ache causing you to shiver visibly. That it wasn't due to excitement or lust frustrated you so much, wishing that it was due to something other than your nerves.

“Are you cold, baby?”

Jackson rejoined you on the bed, laying down on his side next to you, the added warmth of him close and pleasant. You could feel his hardness against your hip, trembling a second time when one of his hands started to stroke up and down from your thigh all the way up to your collarbone, fingers questing past the valley between your breasts rather than across them.

“Yeah. A little,” you agreed even though it was a lie, the guilt swallowed down when he started to lean slightly over you, sampling another taste of your lips.

His fingers brushed across one of your nipples, his hand covering the soft mound of your breast, and it did feel nice enough, better still when his thumb stroked the tight peak. His touch was gentle against the slightly calloused feel of his digit, a contrast you enjoyed even if it wasn't immediately pleasurable, the sound of his mouth moving from your lips wet as you broke apart. You felt his caress being led away from your chest, heading down your belly, muscles fluttering and jumping from the way it tickled, how it made you want to run and hide.

“I'll warm you up.”

He parted your thighs and you let him, eyes closing when you could tell where his next destination was, biting your bottom lip to ward off a worried whimper at the sensation of his fingers trailing down to your cunt. You felt them brushing over your sex, parting your folds, and all the while you tried to remind yourself not to be nervous, not to ruin what was happening, hoping it would all turn out okay. Maybe it would be different. It had to be different. You wanted and needed it to be different.

“ _Don't fuck it up_ ,” you silently bid yourself as Jackson's touch spread all over your pussy, searching and exploring. “ _Don't fuck it up!_ ”

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

You opened your eyes to look at him and his expression was marred with confusion and concern, befuddled gaze roving across your face, making you flash him a small smile, one that you knew looked more strained than you wanted it to.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean you seem tense and...”

His hand cupped your sex, pressing and rubbing lightly before it stopped moving, his brows furrowing further still.

“...you're not wet at all. Is something wrong?”

Something was wrong, just as it always had been, and Jackson had picked up on it. You hadn't been able to just fake your way through it or feel the desire you knew was there deep down, the want for him and for things to be all right for once, even just once, making your forced smile melt away. You turned away from him, not wanting him to see how upset you were, how weary and so very frustrating it was to feel the way you did rather than the way you wanted to, how you wished you could. You curled slightly into yourself, thighs clenched together to feel the absence of heat or slickness between them in another sign of the inevitable trouble you seemed to always have, so unavoidable apparently that it made every emotion you were experiencing feel rubbed raw like an open wound that didn't want to heal.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, throat tight around the words. “I was hoping this wouldn't happen.”

“Baby, no. Hey, don't hide from me, sweetheart.”

Jackson shifted behind you, his lips light against your shoulder while his arms held you in an embrace that seemed meant to show you that everything was all right, even despite how much he didn't understand what was happening. You whimpered, afraid you might start crying, the sound paying tribute to how defeated and tired you felt. Jackson climbed off the bed after a moment and a glance over your shoulder let you see that he'd started to bend down to grab his clothes. His cock had already begun to grow soft, making you huff out your own vexation, your sadness over issues you wished you didn't have. When Jackson had his underwear back on, he rejoined you on the bed with his own t-shirt in hand, holding it out for you to take, to wear, and you sat up to slip into it, his cologne prevalent yet not overpowering on the fabric.

“Don't hide from me, okay?” Jackson repeated, sitting down before you and reaching to cup your face, his hands leading you forward only enough that he could kiss your forehead before he let you go. “Tell me what's the matter. What did you mean about hoping this wouldn't happen again?”

Your hands tightened into fists upon your lap, eyes peering down at them and refusing to look up even when you saw Jackson's hands blanketing yours, taking hold of them. It brought to mind past instances in which he'd done the same thing, holding your hands when you'd been sad about something or had a really miserable day, insisting that you vent your feelings out so he could help somehow. As a friend and boyfriend, Jackson tended to be a great listener, especially whenever you'd had days of just needing someone to hear you out rather than suggest what you could do or say what they thought might be comforting. You couldn't count the number of times he'd made you feel better and you wondered if that could be possible given the circumstances, fearful of what he'd think of you when you opened up to him about the issues at hand. Would it turn him off in a more than physical way, make him rethink your relationship at all? Was it possible that he'd be willing to try again, be patient with you instead of giving up because it was too difficult to work things out? You had to talk to him, tell him, because you knew communication was key, and you felt guilty that you hadn't tried to sooner, making the mistake of waiting until after you felt as if you'd already royally screwed up one attempt at sex to come clean.

“I'm sorry. I was hoping maybe with you I wouldn't have any trouble like I have before. I figured if we just tried things would work themselves out this time and there wouldn't be any problems.”

“YN, stop apologizing. Whatever these problems you're talking about are, they're nothing to be sorry about. Was it something I did wrong in specific?”

“No. It's definitely not you, Jackson. It's just...I dunno...I'm wired wrong or something with this kind of stuff, so trust me it's not you. I'll explain everything. Just give me a minute to start and maybe hold me or something, if that's all right?”

“Of course.”

Jackson shuffled back towards the headboard, repositioning and fluffing a few pillows before he leaned against them, open arms leading you to settle yourself on his lap. It was comfortable and comforting, even when he was just in his underwear and you were naked under his t-shirt, his arms finding their way around you naturally as you relaxed. His silence let you know that he was fine with giving you time to start talking and you were thankful for that, not really that used to outright discussing your issues with a lover. Before him, it'd only been brought up after sex had been happening, touched on through words of frustration by your former lovers rather than explained as a precursor to intimacy. Having someone you were in a relationship with point out your issues like they were a problem was a different situation from describing them instead, but it almost felt better to try things that way, have everything out in the open instead of bootstrapping your way through miserable or lackluster sex as you had with everyone prior to Jackson. You'd certainly tried to go about things that way this time as well, but you supposed you ought to have known that it wouldn't work, not with as caring and attuned to people's emotions as Jackson tended to be.

“Maybe it's an anxiety thing, but it's really, really hard for me to get turned on. I don't think it's ever not been hard.”

“It takes a while?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, even when I think something is hot, find it arousing in my head, it's like my brain doesn't always wanna relay the message to my body or it takes a long time to get there. It's not that I can't get turned on at all so much as it's just a slow process. It's not as bad when it's just me, when I'm by myself. Then I can take as much time as I want to try and think about what might get me going and I don't have to worry about making anyone mad.”

You heard Jackson making a noise in the back of his throat, something akin to a grumble, and it wasn't a happy sound at all. Peering up at him, you could see his brow pinching, his lips pulled in to a pouting sort of frown, and you found it worrying, nerves eating away at you for the fear that what he was learning had already begun to put him off from ever wanting to try sleeping with you again if you wanted to give it a shot. It wasn't like it would've been horrible to go back to just being friends with him, knowing you could respect it if he felt a romantic relationship wouldn't be the best for both of you due to a sexual incompatibility, but it was the last thing you wanted to see happen. You'd had relationships end as a result of the same thing and it had always hurt, crushing your self-esteem every time without fail. Your affection for Jackson had only grown since you'd started dating him, building to a point that you knew you'd fall for him completely one day, making the prospect of things ending so soon even more upsetting to contend with.

Jackson took clear notice when you became quiet for a time, lost to your own musings as they had you balking to continue to elaborate on things. He eased a hand across your back, reassuring in its gentleness, and feeling like his way of telling you it was all right, that he wasn't angry or upset with you in any way. You hoped that would continue to be true, wanting that to stay the same rather than change with the more details you shared.

“In my experience, there's always been this rushed quality to sex and I've never been able to match how eager the guys I've been with were. It's like they'd go zero to 100 the second we decided to take our clothes off and I'd be stuck at thirty even after they'd been trying to get me wet with foreplay for a while. Usually, they'd get exasperated with me taking so long to get in the mood or get off, whenever that actually did happen, and then we'd just...get it over with. I've had that happen to me enough times, have had enough guys dump me because I'm such a chore to turn on or get off, that I was scared to let you know what's wrong with me and risk history repeating itself.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

“Doesn't feel like it.”

“YN, from what you're telling me, you've only ever slept with impatient assholes and there's a definite difference between someone genuinely wanting to make you feel good versus someone trying to get you off so they can either pat themselves on the back about it or rush to get their nut. No one should ever have gotten pissy with you for needing them to be patient. If that's the kind of sex you're used to then it's no wonder you're so nervous about it. Who wouldn't be after that? Even if it wasn't for having that kind of experience under your belt, it's totally okay to take a while to get in the mood. You don't have to work like anybody else. You're exactly you and that's more than okay.”

In spite of your cozy position, you'd been stressed enough for your shoulders to knot up tight and they only began to stop aching with the calming, kind nature of his words. You shouldn't have expected anything less from him, not when it was simply how he was to be thoughtful of other people's feelings, but it remained surprising when you weren't accustomed to it, at least as far as boyfriend's went. With as typical as selfishness in the bedroom had been in your past relationships, you'd come to anticipate it, expecting inevitable grumbling when you'd proven to be the cold fish you'd been labeled as time and again. Yet Jackson appeared not to care that things hadn't progressed the way his earlier arousal had indicated, one of his hands attempting to knead your tension away, making your eyes close at the pampering feeling.

“If you're not feeling it, baby, then neither am I.”

“You're really sure?”

“Definitely. Whenever you are feeling it, we'll go at your pace, no matter how slow that is.”

“So, it's cool if we hold off on trying again tonight?”

“Baby, we were having a great time way before I got you in my bedroom and I got to see you naked. I'm good. Trust me. I am more than happy to enjoy thinking about how good you look spread out on my bed until you're game to be that way again. I mean, have you see your boobs? And your thighs? And don't get my started on your pus-”

“Okay! Point taken!”

Jackson's disappointed groan was muted when you slipped a hand over his mouth, blushing furiously from his excitable praise. You couldn't see it with your palm in the way, but you could feel his lips pouting against your skin, saddened that you'd cut off his compliments. It made you grin, his silly ways always so charming to you, making you like him more and more every time he made you laugh and it was hard not to do just that when his thwarted expression lingered past the removal of your hand. It wasn't a look meant to last, your smile inviting his, and you still felt it when you gave him a kiss, feeling it grow even wider at your open affection, your comfort in giving it after everything you'd shared.

“What do we do, though? If it takes me a long time to want to try again?”

“Communicate. Talk about what you know you like and what you might need. It could be easier for you to feel comfortable with sex if I can get to know you better that way. Did any of your ex-boyfriends ever ask you about that kind of thing?”

“Not really. The first guy I slept with did ask me what to do while he was going down on me, but I kept having to tell him to do different things when something he'd been doing wasn't working and he got so annoyed by the constant change up that I just sort of...”

“Got too scared to tell anyone what you wanted or needed or liked after that?”

“Yeah. That.”

He shook his head, a curse uttered under his breath, one you knew was meant for who you'd dated before rather than for you, not that it prevented you from frowning. Seeing it straight away, Jackson kissed an apology you felt he had no need to give to your brow, easing the swell of your anxiety again.

“Let's try that for a while. We can talk about what you're in to, your fantasies, all that stuff. If it's easier, we can do it over the phone whenever we don't get a chance to actually see each other during the week. You can tell me everything I need to know about what you know makes you hot and I'll tell you about what I like too. We can take our time learning each other and once you feel really comfortable, we'll take things as far as you want.”

“And tonight?”

Jackson shifted down on the bed until he was properly flopped out, taking you with him, keen to cuddle and you were right there with him. Being near to him, without pressure for sex weighing on your mind, felt like a much better way to spend the remainder of the night.

Having conversations in the very near future about what you wanted and needed didn't sound half-bad either.

\- -

Jackson made good on his word in the coming days, showing just as much eagerness for your daily phone calls during the work week as he always had. There hadn't been a single sign, not a one, that your unsuccessful attempt at sleeping together or what you'd discussed had made him enjoy being your boyfriend any less, much to your immeasurable relief. If anything, he seemed to make an effort to show more affection for you, perhaps as a means of helping to do away with any doubts you may have had, and you did your best to let him know how much you appreciated him. Not wanting to take Jackson or his care for granted, you met every appraising text and sign of fondness you received with your own, as well as finding it in you to open yourself up to the avenues of open communication your boyfriend had suggested. You'd always wanted a partner who was interested in knowing your needs better and learning what you might long for even when you had trouble figuring out what that was, so after a few days of Jackson giving you time to choose when you wanted to talk, you took matters into your own hands.

In spite of feeling shy and certainly awkward, you broached the subject of your own desires on the phone one evening, laying in bed with a little bit of relief that Jackson couldn't actually see your face as you tentatively broke a comfortable conversation lull to ask him if he wanted to discuss things. It took a few tries to get the words out and he let you know that you could take as much time as you needed, even offering up information about his own fantasies or experiences to help getting started a little easier on you. Curious and definitely in the best way, you implored him to do just that. Jackson readily regaled you with one of his favorite things to picture whenever he needed to get off, stating just how often the mental image alone of seeing his fingers slowly filling up a slick cunt made him hard, his words in no way lacking for in-depth description. He painted a clear picture for you of his hand tight around his cock whenever he remembered how good it could feel to feel a warm, slick pussy stretching about his digits, to see folds grow so swollen and wet that they glistened. Your boyfriend took so much time describing the fantasy and what it did to him that a few minutes had passed before he was done, his already deep voice huskier with what you knew might be longing, arousal. Hearing someone talk that way, detailed and dirty, caused a response you couldn't ignore, though you weren't positive if it was what he said or the fact that it was Jackson saying it which made your skin start to feel hot. It inspired you to not only to file the information away for later, but to share it with Jackson as well, and he let you know that he would keep your reaction in mind for the future.

You felt slightly less erotic or enticing when your turn came, explaining with a thankfully minimal amount of stumbling over your words that your fantasies tended to revolve around experiences you wanted rather than ones you'd necessarily had. Turning yourself on tended to require taking a good bit of time to think up what might interest you, expounding on what past boyfriends had done to you without the hiccups of your worries or their tendency towards hurrying. The idea of being pleasured thoroughly, having someone make you cum in a way that left you quaking for a while afterward rather than for all of a few quick, pleasant jerks had best brought you relief in the past. Pornography hadn't done much for you really, only serving to provide a position or image you could superimpose onto your own imaginings, and Jackson sounded delighted to learn that he had been the star of your most recent daydreams. There'd been a tiny lilt of shyness to his voice when he confessed his hope that he could bring your fantasies to fruition someday.

Your discussions about sexual imaginings, experiences, and forays into self-gratification became an almost nightly occurrence after the first, stretching on over the course of two weeks. The phone calls became a little more comforting within that time, the gradual nature of it all feeling like it fulfilled a need you'd been seeking for such a long while. Learning about the things that got Jackson hard, how often he thought of you whenever he was turned on, built on your own response to the knowledge until you found that the way his voice could shift from jovial to a relax purr made your core actually ache. He made you want to touch yourself while that voice of his was rumbling in your ear, fighting the impulse as you listened to him talk about how soft your skin was and how good he knew you'd taste the day he might get to experience making you wet. His repeated remarks about how he wanted to eat you out more than anything else had you whispering a request for a picture of him at that moment before you could think or talk yourself out of it, his silent surprise bleeding into the sound of a smirk on his lips. Sure enough, it was the exact expression he wore when he sent you the selfie you'd asked for, an arm tucked behind his head as he stared up into the camera. The shot didn't allow for you to see if he was as hard as you thought he might be, but the sight of his bare chest and the slight tease of the band of his underwear was enough to make you feel well and truly slick.

The orgasm you gave yourself after that phone call had ended was not the first that hadn't felt like enough, but it was the first to make you realize that you felt more of a genuine hunger for sex than just a tentative or hopeful want. Getting yourself off tended to be just enough relief for you to feel sated for a while, but never completely fulfilled and never leaving you with quite as intense a yearning for the person you'd been dating at the time to take care of you instead. You knew that part of that hope was as a result of Jackson, having a feeling somehow that he would take good care of you, be as thoughtful of you up close as he had been on the phone. No matter how much you'd cared for past boyfriends, even loved a few, none of them had ever made you feel quite as seen in your issues as Jackson had. Maybe your taste prior to him at been poor or maybe you'd simply been unlucky in love and in lovers, but laying in your bed, feeling a bit more sleepy from your orgasm, made you want to stop talking and actually start doing.

Jackson hadn't asked for or expected a picture in reply, but you'd gathered up your nerve to send him one once you'd cum, emboldened by how much you knew the sight of your glistening fingers would affect him. You hadn't expected a response, not with how late the hour had been, but a message came to you a little while before you fell asleep, rousing you from your tired daze upon glimpsing the photo Jackson had sent. Seeing that the tip of his cock was wet where it lay against his stomach, the spill of cum dotted across his abs accompanied by the words “you too, huh?” made drifting off a struggle. You'd gone into work the next day sluggish and barely able to concentrate on your computer, zoning out more times than you meant to due to fatigue and your brain being so centered on how things had progressed with your boyfriend the night before. His arrival when your lunch break came that day had been a lovely surprise, though you could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that he'd gotten scarce little sleep as well, not that it appeared to have any ill effects on his usual friendliness or affection. As you leaned up against one another, enjoying the warm weather on a bench in the park near the office where you worked, you exchanged bites of sandwiches and fruit as well as light pecks, each one not feeling like nearly as much as you wanted after the night before. Thinking about Jackson making himself cum to thoughts of you and actually seeing his response to you having touched yourself over him were different experiences altogether, serving to make you wish for even just a little bit more.

You felt too unsure to voice just how much it had all been on your mind throughout your work day, trying to make yourself focus on your little park date instead, watching Jackson beam as you'd fed him the last strawberry. When your conversation remained fun and funny, lacking any hint of the more erotic talk you'd indulged over nighttime chats, it had made you realize just how many of those conversations Jackson had initiated after the first, bridging the gap due to his knowledge of your general shyness, your nerves. His kiss goodbye when the time had come for both of you to return to the daily grind of your respective jobs clued you into just how much Jackson had been doing to progress things without pushing, helping you when you couldn't bring yourself to start things on your own. He'd come to know you so well that even through text he seemed able to determine when you'd wanted a conversation to turn to the topic of sex.

He couldn't keep doing most of the leg work and the realization came once you'd settled down in front of your computer that you had to try engaging things yourself, no more just passively letting things happen. You wanted to be able to go for what you wanted when you knew that you wanted it, craving the confidence in your sexuality that you'd shown in your career and other aspects of your life. Moreover, you wanted Jackson and you wanted to try being with him again, even if you still felt worried about performance anxiety reeling its ugly head. Determined, hopeful, and even a little hot thinking about your own plans, you scooted him a text before you found yourself in trouble for slacking off on the job, smiling when he agreed to you hanging out and sleeping over at his place the coming Friday.

**Jacks** – _prepare yourself, gorgeous! i'm gonna order your favorite take out and give you some world-class cuddles!_

You couldn't wait for the romantic snuggling you knew you'd be in store for as well as whatever Jackson's reaction might be to the genuinely sexy, matching lingerie you had every intention of wearing.

-

Jackson, unsurprisingly, had been a complete gentleman from the moment you'd set foot inside his apartment, showing no sign of being privy to your secret determination and your painfully slow process of making good on said secret determination. On some level, since the first moment he'd planted the sweetest of kisses on your lips that evening, you'd rather much hoped he might make some offhand reference to your most recent dirty conversations or even perhaps go in for a few caresses that implied an obvious state of silent longing. Having resolved to let your boyfriend know you wanted to attempt all the things you'd discussed hadn't necessarily made it easy for one with your slightly timid, anxious leanings to just point blank ask him if he wanted to get you naked again. Having some sort of lead-in felt as if it would have helped, but none seemed to pop up, not even a good two hours since you'd shown up with your overnight bag in hand. If sex had been on Jackson's mind in any capacity, he'd been very good at hiding as much, and you knew that it could very well have been his way of trying to make sure you were comfortable in his home, in his arms for the rest of the night. It was genuinely so sweet.

It did nothing to quiet your own frustration with yourself or your own persistent mousiness, but you still liked how thoughtful your boyfriend was. Given how former lovers had been, having a significant other who actually gave a damn about your comfort level and not giving you further cause for anxiety was certainly a blessing. Being given ample time to initiate things on your own, at your pace, was new territory that definitely didn't feel bad at all, and what did shock you was how minuscule your own nervousness seemed to be the longer you thought on making your intentions known. The usual jitters were still there, looking to be just as obstinate as always even while you were ready to try working past them. Mercifully, they weren't so overpowering that you thought better of even making an effort to attempt sex that night. You couldn't say that thinking about asking Jackson if he wanted a do-over was enough to arouse you and that was no real shocker given your track record, but it was still exciting on some level. If it would deepen enough that you could really, properly get into things was a mystery yet unsolved, but not one you'd really be able to figure out or unravel with continued balking.

By the time you'd both had dinner, discussed the end of your respective work weeks, and enjoyed some ample cuddling, you'd long begun to work up the nerve and the actual game plan for what you'd dubbed **Operation Jump Jackson's Bones**. Your first initial step, putting on lingerie that looked as sexy on you as it had been on the mannequin in the store, had been tended to before you'd even made it to Jackson's apartment, the red lace feeling like an enticing secret you hoped he'd enjoy once you revealed it. The second step entailed figuring out your method for showing him you had the skimpy unmentionables on in the first place, doubting it'd really do much for a slow, sensual reveal to just tug your skirt up with a suggestion that he check you out. It'd be quick and to the point, but maybe lacking in some of the seductive finesse you wanted to try employing. A little past dinner, Jackson's idea of a movie felt like a reasonable time to change into some more comfortable lounge clothing, reminding you that you'd packed a nightgown that may have been just short enough to be beguiling, telling Jackson to start the movie without you while you changed. As you'd dressed down for the evening, slipping into the nightie with its thin straps and skimpy hemline, you felt more and more confident of your plans to subtly seduce your beau, envisioning how he might squirm as you draped your barely covered legs across his lap. You'd wandered back into the living room, fighting a little smile at the way Jackson's eyes quickly darted down to your thighs before he settled his gaze back on your face, having to admit that you found yourself enjoying the whole process of trying to turn your boyfriend on, getting him worked up for you. A lack of your own physical response hadn't done anything to take away from how much fun you were actually having deep down, to the point that it felt like a victory to not be so out of sorts for a change.

The thrill of it all started to bleed back into worry when Jackson hadn't really seemed to react to your lack of substantial clothing, not even when you'd thrown your legs across both of his to expose even more of your thighs, citing that you were a little cold. Rather than take the bait and rub his hands across your bare legs, he'd simply reached over for the fuzzy throw blanket he kept across the back of the couch and settled it across your lower bodies, eyes remaining focused on the Marvel flick you'd hardly been paying any attention to. He made no attempt to push your legs off of his thighs, but he hadn't shown any obvious indication of either enjoying it or being interested, leaving you to doubt your tactics or even if you were the tiniest bit sexy. Your recent conversations, his reaction to you the night you'd tried to have sex, had all pointed to Jackson wanting you badly, but perhaps he was much like you in that arousal wasn't always a guarantee. Was it possible you'd decided to try for sex on a night where he simply might not be feeling it? Or were you just not being obvious enough with how you'd chosen to broadcast your interest? You'd begun to debate just giving up to watch the movie, eyes trying to stay put on the screen ahead of you, but the frequency with which they kept darting back to your boyfriend had you eventually heaving out a loud sigh.

Talking had been one of the things you'd gotten comfortable doing with him over the phone, so there was truly no reason for you not to do so in person. The fact that you hadn't even tried to do as much thus far, embarrassment regardless, made you feel like a coward and you wanted to know that you weren't making your boyfriend uncomfortable. You reached for the remote to pause the movie, slipping the blanket off your lap, and your legs off of his, standing before you turned back towards him.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yes and no. Mostly yes, I'm just a little lost, I guess.”

“What about?”

He looked confused enough to tell you that he probably had no idea what you'd been trying to accomplish that night and it made you feel the need to hide in the bedroom out of pure mortification, banishing that feeling in order to just keep focusing on trying to be open about where you were and what your headspace was, what his might be.

“What I've been trying to do tonight. If you're not feeling it or in the mood, that's absolutely understandable and totally okay. I respect that 100%. I just need to know if I've maybe been going about this all wrong or if next time I should try doing things differently. I'm more used to guys coming at me all horny and ready to go before I've even thought about being in the mood for sex, so I'm not exactly all that used to trying to turn on the sexiness first.”

Jackson's expression morphed from one of simple confusion to an alternating look of both bafflement and slowly processing understanding, eyes starting to widen further when it all really seemed to click with him, one long finger pointing to where your short hemline flirted with your thighs.

“Okay, just to make sure I'm not misunderstanding what you're saying, but you wearing that...with all the shortness and then putting your legs all up on me...that was you trying to turn me on? Because you want to have sex tonight?”

“Yeeeeeaah.”

Your immediate mental lamenting that of course, of fucking course, you hadn't been obvious enough became a short-lived experience, dying down at the way Jackson muffled a low groan behind the press of hands that covered his face, his body falling back against the couch like hours of tension had just bled out of him in one instant.

“Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die! When you walked out here in that tiny little nightgown, I literally thought I was gonna have some sort of horniness heart attack and my obituary would read 'death by containing a boner from his unsuspecting girlfriend' or something!”

“Wait? Really? It was actually working the way I wanted it to?”

Feeling giddier by arousing someone than you'd ever felt, you needed little else than the beckoning wave of Jackson's hands towards himself to go where he clearly wanted you, happily straddling his lap. You felt yourself smiling a little wider when you sat right down atop the very obvious erection you'd completely managed to miss up until that point. Sure, you felt a bit like a goof for having not thought to look down at his lap to see if you'd been getting a response from him there, but you were far too relieved that Jackson had proven to be in the mood and aroused by your actions to knock yourself for not noticing more obvious tells. Instead, you soaked up the sound he let out when you pressed more fully on the concealed length of his dick, the look on your face, utterly gleeful, making him smile warmly back.

“So, you're okay with trying our do-over sex tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

“Well, since you're so polite, Mr. Wang”

Jackson grinned, wide, cute as could be, and enough to have you giggling even when his cock was hard against your core, the sound slow to fade away despite how quickly he moved in for a kiss, quieted eventually by the intoxicating lure of his tongue finding yours. It was clear from the way his hands moved to grip your hips how excited Jackson was and unlike last time, your nerves weren't quite so shot. It was a drastic difference, like growing accustomed to the sound of someone yelling just for the volume to finally shift to a tame and tolerable whisper, the typical wariness that was your norm a great deal more manageable. It probably helped that you felt proud of yourself for speaking up, for trying to initiate things, and while maybe that was a small victory, it was one you were glad for. You wanted further successes, wanted to see if you could keep up the momentum of trying to be a little bolder, rocking your hips above him, grinding down on Jackson's cock 'til he was moving beneath you, the action encouraging as his voice stated his enjoyment of the friction, the pleasure in his groan a sound you latched on to greedily.

“Where are you at, baby? Are you getting hot for me yet?”

“I'm not wet or anything, if that's what you mean.”

The sensations he gained from the gentle undulation of your hips seemed to be significantly stronger than what you were experiencing, needing further heat and arousal before the occasional pressure of his hardness against your clit might be substantial enough to be anything more than mildly pleasant. You could feel yourself growing warmer certainly, but the slickness that you longed to feel pooling between your thighs hadn't yet made an appearance, your immediately visible chagrin making Jackson's hands grow firmer against your waist, urging you into stillness.

“I do like what we're doing, but not quite as much as you do yet.”

“Nothing wrong with that at all. We've got all night. Hell, we've got all weekend to try getting you as hot and bothered as I am. All we have to do is repeat what we've been trying on the phone for the past few weeks, find exactly what you want and need to help you feel all wet and horny. So, hit me with what you've got, gorgeous. I am all ears.”

You had some idea of what seemed to interest you most, what might potentially be the exact sort of enticing that you were looking for and could be enough to have you dripping for him, leave you aching to learn how his touch would feel. You had Jackson before you, aroused by you and his voice already nearing roughness with that longing of his, drawing your thoughts back to the post-orgasm selfie he'd sent to you. You hadn't gotten the chance to see him pleasure himself to the thought of you and you needed that sight ingrained in your mind, wanted to learn the way he stroked himself to release. Wanting to make that happen also meant giving him even more material to work with, shifting your body back further down his lap to give him space to do what you would soon ask of him.

“First things first, I should probably show you what I put on for you. Feels silly to be wearing this lace if I'm not gonna let you see it.”

Before you could let yourself be overcome by embarrassment, grasping on to the confidence you had yet to shed, you tugged up at the hem of your nightgown to pull it off, toss it aside with a rush of light fabric that revealed the red lingerie underneath. While not the most comfortable thing to have on, you knew the panties did amazing things for the curve of your ass, the bra accentuating the shape and size of your breasts in a way that made you feel undoubtedly sexy. Jackson seemed to agree, wordlessly and immediately awed the second he set sight on what you'd worn for the both of you, hands hovering in the air just around your body like he couldn't decide where he wanted to touch first. You liked him staring at you with so much reverence and need, sucking in a breath through his teeth like it was all he could do just to breathe with you so near to naked on his lap. You felt yourself blushing and burning, enjoying the lust that made his eyes glaze over just before he finally set his hands atop your upper thighs near your hips, thumbs grazing along the thin edge of your thong.

“I want you to show me what you did the other night when you came and you sent me the after photo. Wanna watch you touch yourself because of me. I've never really been so into it before, you know? Thinking about turning somebody on that much.”

“If you want a show, sweetheart, then I am happy to oblige. Just gotta tell me how you want me. Shirt on? Off?”

“Off. Definitely off.”

Jackson flashed you a wink, playfully flirtatious with you as always, and you were helpless to resist how much it had you smiling, swearing he could just about have you wanting to titter like a schoolgirl with a first crush at times. He whipped his shirt off with even more ease than you'd expressed over removing your nightie, appearing relaxed as could be to just recline back with an arm pillowed behind his head, the fingers of his other hand slowly trailing down the center of his chest while his eyes watched you take in the very interesting path he traveled. You almost reached down to help him when he started to tug at the waistband of his pants, fighting it back to instead observe and enjoy just as you most wanted to, for the time being, your own hands gripping your thighs as he cupped his cock through the black material that hid if from your eyes. It was a bit of a tease really how he groped his length through the garment, making you wait and want for the view of his hand wrapped around his shaft with nothing in the way. You weren't sure if he always took his time or if it was for your benefit, but you truly didn't care, feeling all the more aware of the drumming of your own heartbeat when he finally sank a hand inside his trousers. Jackson groaned, deep and drawn out when he wrapped his fist around his dick and gave it one slow pump, the motion one you only looked away from when you felt the need to see his face, finding his eyes on yours as pleasure bloomed in the warm brown that stared back at you.

“Show me?”

“Lift up a bit and I'll get as naked as you want.”

Jackson wasted no time once you'd done as he asked, shoving his pants down just far enough to let you see the sight you craved, his cock already leaking at the tip, the beads of thick white standing out against his skin and giving the head of his erection a slight sheen as his thumb smoothed across it. The slickness wasn't much, but it seemed to be just enough to wet his fingers, make the first visible stroke of his grip surrounding the shaft in a slow up and down feel incredible for him.

“Mmm...did it just like this that night, YN. Always try to take it slow at first so I can savor thinking about you, picturing you looking at me just the way you are right now.”

He gave his length a squeeze, one that made his hips shudder and arch just a little, the pressure adding to his excitement while seeming as if it was starting your own, your body feeling even warmer than before.

“I try to imagine how good your fingers would feel pumping over my cock instead, how pretty they'd look stuffed all deep inside your pretty cunt while you think of me. When you sent me that picture of your fingers all wet from cumming…”

Jackson gave himself a few quicker strokes, his breath catching along with your own, and you swore you saw his length throb, tearing your eyes from the following stillness of his hand to enjoy how good he looked, feeling so much satisfaction as he smiled both from the sight of you before him and his own memories.

“...you made me feel like I was gonna blow my load twice. Maybe one of these days, you'll let me watch you. Let me suck your fingers clean before I eat you out until you cum again.”

Not being so sure that you were feeling bold enough for that particular experience didn't make you enjoy the suggestion any less, hyper-aware of the fact that your core wasn't full with him, staring at the reddened hardness of his cock with a growing ache to feel it somehow. Watching Jackson touch himself was even better to see and hear up close than you'd been expected, but it wasn't quite enough, not when observation bled into a hope to feel him, pleasure him. The hint of wetness that clung to his length made you want to see how it might look while it was properly soaked, like how it might be whenever you took him inside, and the idea had you almost stumbling as you jumped off his lap.

“YN, where are you...”

“Don't stop! I'll be right back, I promise!”

Seeing Jackson on his couch, cock in hand and expression perplexed, was the such an odd mix of hot and hilarious that you tried not to laugh all the way to his bedroom, skittering around a decorative table in the hallway just short of crashing into it in your haste. You didn't leave Jackson waiting long, returning to his side slightly winded from your near mad dash, the plastic bag you had in hand making your boyfriend's head tilt with further confusion. You let your secret bounty spill out onto the coffee table, understanding dawning on Jackson as he saw the bottle and box you'd brought back with you.

“Ooooh! You came prepared!”

“Indeed I did!”

You left the box of condoms alone, figuring they could just stay put until they might be needed, climbing back onto Jackson's lap with the bottle of lube in hand, cap popping open with a click. Tilting it towards your hand, you gave the bottle a squeeze and felt an immediate resistance, groaning when you remembered that you'd not removed the protective seal beneath the lid, cheeks warming at the way Jackson snickered. Sticking your tongue out at him, grateful to feel so playful despite your own slightly bumbling mishap, you managed to get the seal off and the cap back on without too much struggling, squirting some of the cool, clear fluid into your palm.

“Gonna give me a hand, baby?” he asked, all hints of humor in his voice absent, and you were so relieved to see that his cock remained hard in his grasp, arousal not diminished by your delays or clumsiness, the bottle you held cast aside on the couch.

“That was the plan.”

“It's a good one.”

The first touch of your slick fingers circling the tip of his length had Jackson's thighs flexing beneath you, his hand falling from the base of his shaft to let you take over, and you enjoyed the process of smearing the wetness all across him until his flesh glistened. It looked so good to see your boyfriend's thickness enclosed in your grasp, feeling the weight and girth of it against your palm so you could truly begin to imagine how he might fill you, how much bigger he'd feel than your own fingers. Sliding your hand all the way down and then back to the head again, making him moan, had you wanting nothing more than to bring him so much pleasure, have him dizzy and shuddering until he painted his stomach with cum just as he had the night he'd gifted you with that same image.

“Show me more,” you whispered to him, lips close to touching his and drawing to a smile once they brushed, Jackson's hand covering your own to guide your movements, tightening your grasp.

“I'll show you everything you want. Fuck, I'll give you everything you want.”

“Right now, I just want this.”

Jackson seemed pleased with letting you have your way, no matter how much he may have wanted to touch you too or whatever else he was aching to try. He led the pace of your hand with the presence of his until you were stroking him smoothly, fist racing from tip to base and back, wet and loud with the slippery addition of the lube. You couldn't help savoring the noisiness of it, how unashamed Jackson was in his groans and cries, nothing about the delight he felt contained or quieted. You loved feeling his hand over yours, dick throbbing and warm, his thighs helping his hips to arch up towards your combined fingers, chasing the bliss so eagerly you wondered if he might already be close. It wouldn't have mattered to you if he came quickly, not when you wanted to witness his orgasm up close, barely able to keep up with the kisses he became so needy for when you wanted to keep your eyes on him, afraid to miss even a second of the gorgeous sight he presented. Jackson's gaze becoming dazed from sensation, his defined chest heaving as his breath grew shaky, made you feel like you were on fire and restless, just the way you had on the phone. It felt so much stronger than it had that night and even on nights when you'd just indulged in your own safe imaginings, reality for once so much better than any of your fantasies.

You heard yourself whimpering at all the tempting stimulation you were experiencing, so unused to such a strong reaction with another person before you that it nearly threw you the second you realized that you were growing wet. The slickness had begun to build between your thighs before you'd even had the presence of mind to be fully aware of it, panties quickly growing damp when there was so little material there in the first place, the tight lace making you feel incredibly aware of the pressure it placed against your core. You felt yourself yearning for more, for friction against your clit, hips squirming when Jackson settled a hand on the bare curve of your ass to give the supple flesh a squeeze, a knowing smirk making his lips look all the more kissable.

“Starting to get a little restless, baby?”

“Mm-hm. I'm a little wet.”

“Yeah?”

At your nod, Jackson bit his lip, and the hand that had been blanketing yours dropped to your thigh, staying there in spite of the subtle flexing of his fingers telling you that he wanted to touch you, feel how aroused you were becoming for himself.

“You can touch me now...if you want.”

Jackson's hand, still in his patience, finally began to move with your permission, drawn up towards crimson lace to caress you. It wasn't like it had been the last time, your cunt dry and your anxiety eating away at the possibility of enjoying what might come, and the nervousness you felt coupled instead with a greater sense of anticipation the higher his hand moved. When you felt his fingers moving over your mound, light pressure through the scant fabric, you welcomed it and as he pushed your panties aside to feel you directly you bucked towards his touch in a further invitation of his exploration. He stroked along your pussy with care, watching your face as he learned your softness, guided through the heat and wetness he found to coat as much of your folds as he could, the pad of his thumb grazing your clit. He pressed, rubbed you there slowly and it made the steady pumping of your fist ease up to match him, not a word of complaint coming from Jackson for the shift in pace. If anything, it looked as if he liked the equal playing field, the two of you touching each other at the same time, expression pleased and smiling. The stimulation was subtle, but there and you wanted more of it, hoping to feel it get better. Letting Jackson just enjoy himself and explore you felt fun, giving you no sense of being scared to direct him as you needed, his want to be attentive to your needs reminding you that there was nothing to be worried about.

Every hint of enjoyment you showed, even the tiniest shudder of your hips or the quietest little sigh, caught Jackson's attention. If you showed him that you liked something, liked how his fingers moved a certain way, he repeated it until it felt even better, and your pussy was almost dripping wet by the time he'd just barely began to fill your empty core with one thick finger. He never gave you more than you felt you could take, sinking in only as deep as you wanted to welcome him, stretching you with two gently thrusting digits once you whispered that you needed to feel them. In a matter of what seemed like mere minutes, Jackson rendered you just about speechless and had you riding his fingers more eagerly than you thought you ever had before, even on your own. What felt good by yourself seemed so much better with him, just one of his hands making your cunt clench and your clit throb, body growing tense with desperation. It had never seemed so close to certain rather than merely possible that another person could make you cum, your hope to feel it intensifying your concentration on how much pleasure you were experiencing, trying to focus on the knot of building gratification inside you before you could lose sight of it. You wanted to cum, needed to cum.

Holy shit, your leg really hurt.

“Ow!!”

Calf muscle burning and abruptly feeling uncomfortably tight, both of your hands flew to Jackson's shoulders to steady yourself as your entire body stilled in response to the pain. All of your pleasure seemed to fade away entirely, your boyfriend's fingers slipping out of your saturated pussy as he stared at your scrunched expression with growing concern and horror.

“Oh god! I'm sorry!”

“No, it's my leg! There's a cramp!”

“Which one?”

“Left!”

“Here?”

Jackson's hand, digits slippery with your arousal, moved to the back of your thigh to press and knead cautiously, your head shaking as you leaned in towards his chest, seeking comfort.

“My calf!”

“Hang on, baby. I've got you.”

He tried to be as careful as possible in repositioning your body, ginger and mumbling apologies as he maneuvered you to lay on your back across the couch, every movement making you terribly aware of the taut aching that felt knotted up near the back of your knee. It hurt even more to feel his fingers there at first, making you hiss through your teeth in a way you knew had to be the furthest thing from attractive, gripping the couch cushions as Jackson lifted up your leg as slowly as he could, working his thumbs in initially ginger circles against the locked-up muscles beneath your warm skin. You almost wanted to ask him to stop, but it did seem to help after a few seconds and you resolved to wait things out, letting your body grow lax just a little at a time while Jackson tended to you. You'd had worse muscle cramps before, ones that had lasted much longer until they'd finally gone away on their own, so you were beyond happy when it showed itself to be short-lived, relief making you sigh and relax.

“That helping?”

“Yeah.”

You flashed him a weary smile, the curve of your lips lingering as you took in the sight of him, stricken with the near absurdity of the situation once every inch of you was no longer hyper-focused on waiting for the pain to dissipate. There you were, wearing the sexiest lingerie you'd ever owned, cunt sodden and unsatisfied while your boyfriend rubbed your leg, shorts around his thighs with an erection that hadn't yet given up. Instead of being upset by the unexpected wrench which had thrown itself into your plans and your orgasm, it all seemed a little silly and rather funny. You'd had plenty of things ruin sex for you, but never something as random as getting a cramp from the anticipatory tension of wanting to cum really badly.

“So, that happened.”

“Uh-huh. About gave me a heart attack.”

“And yet your boner is hangin' in there.”

“Eh, he's a fighter.”

Snorting, you pulled your leg from Jackson's hands and let it drape over the back of the couch, beginning to shake with a tide of amused giggles as you motioned him eagerly towards you. Led by your laughter and hands, Jackson settled his lean frame between your open thighs to let you tug him down for as many kisses as you could give while you were laughing. He tried to keep his weight off of you initially, provide a little distance between your body and his, but you wanted him to know that you were still okay and comfortable just in case your mirth wasn't telling enough. Your legs locked around his waist, squeezing a few times until Jackson gave in to your welcoming hints, resting against you, the weight of his cock against your heat. As your amusement calmed and your kisses deepened, the desire you hadn't yet lost fanning hotter again, the thrust of his tongue mimicked the slow way he began to rock his hardness against your cunt until you knew you needed the feeling without your panties in the way. You wanted him inside you, pumping his cock into your body, emboldened by your neediness and the happy realization that you still wanted more. There was plenty of time for him to try to make you cum, pick up where things had left off before your leg had rebelled, a little more assured with your own sense of ease that history wouldn't repeat itself with Jackson. The idea of sex didn't feel like such a chore or a reason to fret, even if there was still a chance you might not feel very much pleasure due to your own tendency of being nervous whenever someone was inside you. It all felt like it would be okay, even if there were still moments of awkwardness ahead. At least you knew that you could both laugh about them.

You stretched out a hand towards the coffee table, palm slapping across the cool surface in a blind search for the box of condoms, ultimately having to turn your head from Jackson's intoxicating mouth to see what you were doing. When it turned out you'd been missing the package by about a mile, fingers not even close to it, you scoffed at your own fumbling and reached out a little further, attempts thwarted by Jackson snagging it instead.

“Trying to tell me you need something?”

“Obvious, huh?”

“Well, yes and no. Just to be sure that we're still on the same page, but did you want to...”

He thumbed along one of the cardboard seams, looking poised to start tearing it open, and you angled up beneath him slightly to unclasp your bra, feeling that it was about time your lingerie hit the floor since it had more than served its intended purpose. Jackson licked his lips at the sight of your breasts, like it may have been taking everything he had not to dedicate the next several minutes to licking and sucking at your nipples, something you hoped he'd do shortly. When you nodded up at him, feeling a little shy as your thumbs slipped under the sides of your thong to start pushing downward, Jackson took the hint to climb off of you and allow his shorts to fall to the floor. He stood beside the couch, tearing through the condom package and the wrapper of the first foiled square he came across, leaving a mess on the rug he showed little concern for once your panties joined the ripped box. Your movements were slow and a little ginger when you parted your legs to let him see you, being spread open different without any panties on, even when they had been the tiniest pair in the world. Feeling shy even though he'd already seen you naked, had his fingers inside you, seemed maybe a bit ridiculous, but so normal for you that you didn't actually care, the difference you felt in your comfort level being what stood out to you at that moment. Watching him roll the condom down his cock, knowing he was mere moments from being inside you, came with a good sort of nervous energy, more exciting than anything else. You continued to latch onto that feeling, keeping your legs open as Jackson rejoined you on the couch, crawling until he'd knelt between your thighs.

“Reached down and spread yourself open for me, baby. Let me get a good look.”

You wondered if he could see how your fingers trembled as you did as he asked, his eyes locked on your swollen cunt as he reached around on the couch behind him for the bottle of lube you'd dropped there earlier, squeezing a dollop onto his hand to add to the slickness that already coated his condom-sheathed length.

“You're so beautiful. I've never seen a prettier cunt. Gonna look so amazing stuffed full of my cock tonight.”

Another spill from the bottle and then it was capped, set aside so Jackson could move his wet fingers over your core, his digits brushing against your own as you kept your folds spread wide for him, retreating slightly to rub your clit when he pushed two coated fingers inside you.

“Really want me now, YN?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, clamping down on the fingers that had begun to slowly move within you until they went still, face hot as you parted your lips to almost beg. “Fuck me, Jackson. Please.”

It was something you'd never outright asked someone to do, but it felt right, good to want to plead for it for a change, and better still because of how Jackson gave in, his cock nudging against your entrance as he leaned over you to pepper kisses more sweet and loving than deep all over your face, your lips. Even with the tip of his length right there, ready to press in, he waited so he could dedicate time to showing you affection first, possibly even to help calm your nerves, taking hold of his face to claim his lips acting as your quiet way of showing him that everything was all right. You couldn't determine how long you simply kissed each other, slow gliding of tongues and gentle nips of teeth, but it helped to keep everything from feeling too rushed, your body relaxed yet tense with welcome yearning once Jackson finally started to ease inside. He broke away from your mouth with a hot sigh at the feel of you, the tight stretch of your walls gloving his cock all the way along every inch of it, squeezing him hard with each steady pass of his hips pressing forward in little increments. He felt thick to the point of a slight burning, but it wasn't terrible, barely even that uncomfortable, and it was more than worthwhile when it provided you with the sight of him staring down at you with such blatant appraisal, lips faintly quirking up at how good you clearly felt for him.

“God, you're amazing, sweetheart. You're so pretty. You look so good underneath me, all warm and wanting and taking my cock even better than you did my fingers. Can't wait to make you feel so good tonight.”

“You already are.”

It wasn't a lie, not in the least, and even as it faintly ached the weight and stretch of his cock inside felt wonderful. The fullness was better than what you'd experienced with his fingers and his first proper thrust after the initial plunge brought with it an incredibly pleasant friction, guided by how wet you already were while being made better still by the extra slickness provided by the lube. You weren't sure how likely it might be that you could cum from his cock alone, knowing that you'd need more pressure on your clit to have a chance of getting there, but it seemed entirely possible that there might be a good chance for that sort of release when it was already new as it was to feel such bliss straight away. After being so familiar with needing a great deal more time into sex to start liking it, the difference was as wonderful as all the others had been, and you felt your heart filling with deeper tenderness for the man above you, arching your chest up as his hips rocked against you with a savoring slowness.

“Can you...”

Your words trailed off, still mildly put off by asking for what you wanted or needed when doing so without issue remained a little new, but Jackson was unfazed, continuing to fuck you so sweetly.

“What do you need, baby?”

His neck bent, mouth finding the space between your breasts, and you moaned at the presence of his lips, hands creeping into his hair to clutch the dark brown strands, lead him in the right direction.

“This what you wanted?” he asked, voice low and lips loud as he kissed his way to one breast, flicking a line of wet fire across your nipple.

“Yes. A little faster too, please?”

“Whatever my pretty baby wants, she gets.”

The complementary nature of his words, the praise in every touch, had your body lighting up further with heat and longing, legs circling around his waist as he fucked his length into you just a little faster, giving you what you asked for. With his elbows balancing him, pressing down into the soft couch cushions around you, he cupped your breasts towards his waiting mouth, tonguing and sucking the tight buds, nipples tingling from the light tug of his teeth. He only lifted his head from your chest to kiss you, wanting your lips on his while his cock drove deep, pussy squelching from the steady pace of him spearing your heat so well. The closeness of his body, the angling of your hips to meet him, help him glide into you, gave you an occasional pressure on your clit, making your pleasure deeper and though it wasn't the direct contact you needed, you couldn't find yourself wanting to rush towards that yearning right away. You didn't want to get caught back up in the desperation of trying to cum just yet, hoping to indulge in as much of Jackson's bliss as you possibly could, the groans he breathed out every time he went hilt-deep inside you quickly becoming your new favorite sound. You'd enjoyed making your lovers feel good in the past, typically finding that it was one of the only things about sex you'd really been able to consistently find some delight in, but it had so often been soured by your own lack of pleasure or their exasperation with you for not being responsive enough for them. Being able to be so enthusiastic about how good you were making him feel and how much pleasure he was giving you in return felt like a wondrous experience, good enough that you weren't even worried about the desperate curse that slipped from Jackson's lips.

“Oh fuck!”

His hips shuddered as he let his brow rest against your chest, his frame growing tense, breath coming out in even rougher pants than before. Jackson's hips didn't still, but they slowed for a few moments, his whole body tight with pleasure like he had begun to fight against how good he'd been feeling. You felt his teeth scraping lightly against your shoulder, tongue darting up from where he'd bitten you to find the side of your neck, kissing and sucking at your soft skin as if to distract himself.

“Baby, I'm sorry. It's been so long and you're so tight. I think I'm gonna cum soon.”

“You can. It's okay.”

His expression was a mix of mournful embarrassment for how quickly his release was reaching him and deep pleasure, the smile you offered him one you hoped was reassuring. He choked back another cuss when you rocked your hips out of your own sense of urgency, the desperation to watch him give in, pussy clenching on his cock to help him along towards the orgasm he was clearly trying to resist.

“We've got all weekend, right?”

The reminder seemed to help, regret melting away from his face and in place of it came a vivid look of utter euphoria, his eyes squeezing shut as he let his pace shift from steady to wild, cock drilling into your sopping core with intent. The slap and squelch of every thrust was loud, but Jackson was louder, rasping out your name like chanting it was the only thing keeping him stable, the feel of you under him a lifeline even when your body, your cunt, was what was taking him apart. The harder he had you, the more you loved it, your well-used pussy sensitive and welcoming to the pistoning pressure inside, each smooth glide building you up like his fingers had. You weren't quite there, weren't quite close, but you were getting nearer and you were anxious for next time, for how good it would be even before Jackson had lost the battle with his own flagging stamina, cock beginning to pulse within the silken clutch of your cunt.

Pumping shallow at first, focusing the sensations towards the head of his cock as his orgasm took hold, Jackson's motions shifted from hurried and needy to slow, driving deep and hard for the last few thrusts as he spent into the condom, the warmth of his cum felt even through the barrier. His voice was blissful, tones raw with rapture, and every breath seemed emphasized with a groan or a near whine of satisfaction. They were the best sounds you'd ever heard, so much better than the muffled grunts or huffing of past experiences, and you hoped he would always be so vocal whenever he came for you in the future, feet rubbing up and down the backs of his legs as he began to come down from his high. For a number of moments, Jackson rocked his hips, grinding inside you to make the climax he'd enjoyed last as long as possible, making it seem like he simply couldn't get enough. You liked it so much that it was saddening to feel him start to pull out, wishing for a moment that the issue of removing the condom wasn't there to prevent him from staying inside you for a while, the feeling of being so empty difficult to ignore once you felt him leaving your body.

The loss of him had you pouting before you'd even realized it, an expression that made Jackson spring into action no matter how shaky he may have been from his orgasm, and you stared up at him, eyes growing wide, as his hands moved between your thighs. He stuffed you full with two long fingers, pumping them with an immediate steadiness and precision, seeking out the right speed to have your pleasure soaring and your back arching up from the couch. As his hand labored between your legs, fucking your cunt, curling his fingers towards your g-spot, he focused the touch of his other hand on your clit, strumming the tight bud with the sort of pressure and swiftness you needed whenever you were close. It felt just right, building up the ecstasy you'd already felt from being fucked to magnify that unsatisfied sensitivity, Jackson giving you exactly what you needed. It didn't matter if he made you cum at all as long as you'd enjoyed yourself, but being so close felt wonderful and the manner in which he got you off wasn't important. That he was trying, that he wanted to give you that much pleasure, made it easier to let yourself go, the end rushing up on you with an almost embarrassing quickness once his fingers had slipped inside.

“That's my good girl. Cumming so sweet for me, soaking my fingers,” he purred, just loud enough that you could hear him over the wet smack of his hand riding between your legs and the whimpers peaking from your own lips.

Your pussy fluttered, clenching and clasping about his fingers, never wanting them to leave, and Jackson's thrusting turned in to a slow, rubbing curl right against that wonderful place within you, keeping your pleasure high and the lingering circle of a thumb staying tight to your clit made you feel lightheaded, delirious with how satisfied you were. It was the best orgasm you'd had in ages, so good you never wanted it to end, and it shocked you how long it seemed to last, soft moans and shivers of sensitivity making your body feel out of control. It was the sort of deep gratification that you knew would make walking after he was done with you difficult, your legs already shaking as Jackson did everything he could to draw your orgasm out spectacularly. You felt so wet, absolutely messy and wrecked, but you loved every second of it, a shaky smile mirroring his as he watched you, looking happy rather than smug for having gotten you off. It was an expression that reminded you how much Jackson wanted you to feel good because he cared for your pleasure rather than for the sake of being able to pat himself on the back, your release something important rather than a chore to deal with until he could get his own orgasm. You felt so lucky to have him, face coming up to cover your hands as you started giggling, breathless and relieved, hips shuddering when the sensations finally started to feel like too much.

“Now that's a beautiful sound and a beautiful sight.”

Jackson's fingers retreated from within your cunt, sliding across your folds for a few strokes from clit to slippery entrance to make your hips jolt at least twice more before his touch finally went away, mindful not to overstimulate you. You dropped your hands from your eyes, smiling lips still covered as you watched him remove the condom, squinting as he tried to make sure he tied it off without any of the creamy contents spilling. It probably wouldn't have mattered much if it had, the fabric of the couch beneath your bottom already a little soaked from the combination of your own arousal and the lube, signifying that he'd need to get it cleaned. He didn't much seem to care, reaching for the plastic bag you'd left on the table to toss the bits of trash you'd both dropped in your excited haste to please each other inside, crawling back over you once the mess had been dealt with. He started to squeeze himself between your body and the couch, leading you to shift onto your side to face him, the front of your form pressing against his as he led one of your legs up over his hip and slipped an arm around your back.

“Cuddle time?”

“Definitely cuddle time,” he agreed, kissing your forehead and tugging you as close as possible, his scent as you nuzzled against him a mix of sex and cologne, becoming a combination you knew you wanted more of.

You felt sated, contented, and incredibly relieved to boot. There had been hiccups and fumbling, moments of awkwardness, but it hadn't ruined anything at all. It wasn't perfect sex, but you hadn't needed it to be, felt better knowing that sex could be so amazing even with the occasional bumbling or pratfalls. It was a fun experience, a beautiful mix of pleasure and humor, and that was something you'd always longed for during every stressful, dissatisfying experience you'd had before. The fact that Jackson had made you cum that night didn't necessarily mean it would happen every time or easily and it certainly didn't mean that you'd magically be able to have sex in the future without feeling your usual anxiety or slow to arrived arousal. What you knew was that you could absolutely trust him to be good to you, care about your comfort level just as he had every way since you'd met him. He would never make you feel lacking or broken, calmed by the new ability to acknowledge that you had a lover who understood you without frustration.

You weren't so sure that you could say you were in love with him, your relationship still too young for that, but the feeling in your chest as you held on to him, felt him holding you back, let you know that someday soon you'd be there. Jackson Wang was just too lovable not to completely steal your heart and whenever he did, had it fully, you'd be fine with it because you knew he'd handle it with the utmost care.

“Thank you for this, Jackson. I know it was a little bit of a disaster here and there, but I liked it a lot. This was the best sex of my life. Seriously.”

“Nothing you need to thank me for, baby. I'm just happy you enjoyed it.”

His lips touched your hairline, creating a crown of soft kisses that made you melt, feeling so relaxed that you probably could've dozed off with time were you not feeling the intense need to shower as soon as you could find the will to move. Being held by Jackson had quickly become your favorite way to spend time, his arms a place you wanted to be as often as possible, and you hoped that you scarcely be out of them for the rest of the weekend.

“No matter how it goes, YN, I'll make sure you have a good time. If it's a little messy or awkward, if you get a little scared or you can't cum, I'll take care of you and I'll never make you feel bad. I'll always make it fun for you, sweetheart. Especially whenever I get to try eating you out.”

“You really wanna go down on me that bad?”

“If your cunt wasn't covered in lube right now, sweetheart, I'd already have your thighs around my head. I am ready and willing to eat your pussy whenever you say the word.”

His comments had you squirming, feeling shy and truthfully a little bit excited by what he'd said, a gentle pulse of arousal trembling through your core. You could feel yourself heating up, especially your face, but you didn't want to hide from him, slipping a hand between your bodies to start drawing little circles across his chest with one of your fingers.

“Maybe we should go take a shower and get cleaned up first? I wouldn't mind letting you have a taste...if you really want to.”

“Ooooooh, I really want to!”

Despite his giddiness at the prospect, the offer you'd given, Jackson kissed you slowly, like he had all the time in the world to live out his fantasy of letting you ride his face. The gentle sweep of his tongue parting your lips, slipping past them to kiss you tenderly and yet so deeply, so passionately, felt like a very tempting preview of what was to come. You felt nervous again, a little worried that you wouldn't be able to enjoy it as much as you wanted to, but the tingling between your thighs, the excitement and arousal it spoke of, made you quietly urge your anxiety into silence. With as excited as he was to go down on you, there was no way Jackson wouldn't manage to make you feel really good, whether you came from it or not.

“Let's cuddle just a little bit longer, though, baby,” Jackson whispered between kisses, his body relaxed rather than tense or ready to move. “Wanna just kiss you for a while like this before I get my mouth on that sweet cunt.”

The weekend always passed by far too quickly, faster than it should, so taking things slow and refusing to rush was a plan you could definitely agree with.

You kissed Jackson back with a smile.


End file.
